Smokescreen Marriage. Sara Craven
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His minders probably.’ His tone was envious. ‘He is already a multi-millionaire in his own right, but he will be even richer when he gets control of all the Theodakis holdings. If he ever does,’ he added, grinning. ‘They say he and his father have quarrelled and Aristotle Theodakis would do anything to prevent him stepping into his shoes.’
He sent Kate a sly glance. ‘Do you want him, kougla mou? Many women do, and not just for his money. He is quite a stud. You would have to stand in a long line, I think.’
‘Don’t be absurd,’ Kate said coldly, aware that her flush had deepened. ‘And do keep your voice down. I think he’s planning to have us thrown out.’
That icy considering look had thrown her badly. He had seen her companions and judged her accordingly, so naturally she was honour bound to prove to him that his low opinion of her was entirely justified.
Teeth gritted, she reached for her drink, only to find the whole nasty concoction cascading down the front of her dress as her arm was jogged by a passing waiter.
She gasped and jumped up, shaking her skirt. Stavros and Dimitris were on their feet too, shouting angrily and gesticulating at the waiter, who was apologising abjectly and proffering a clean napkin.
‘I’d better go to the powder room,’ Kate interrupted, embarrassed at the attention the accident was attracting.
She turned, and cannoned into a tall figure standing behind her. As his hands grasped her arms to steady her, she realised it was Michael Theodakis.
‘Allow me to make amends for the clumsiness of my staff, thespinis.’ He spoke excellent English, she thought, with just a trace of an accent which, allied to his low-pitched drawl, some women would undoubtedly find sexy. ‘If you will come with me, my housekeeper will attend to your dress.’
‘There’s really no need.’ She freed herself, and took a small step backwards, her face warming. Because, close to, he was formidably attractive—over six feet in height, broad shouldered and lean-hipped. And prudence suggested she should keep her distance.
‘But I think there is.’ Somehow, he had repossessed her hand, and was leading her between the tables towards the exit.
‘Will you let go of me, please?’ Kate tried to tug her fingers from his grasp. ‘I can look after myself.’
‘You are deluding yourself, thespinis, especially when you keep company like that,’ he added with a touch of grimness.
She lifted her chin. ‘It’s not for you, kyrie, to criticise my friends.’
‘They are old and dear acquaintances perhaps?’ The sardonic note in his voice was not lost on her.
She bit her lip. ‘Not—exactly.’
‘I thought not.’ He walked her across the hotel foyer to the row of lifts and pressed a button.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked in alarm, as the lift doors opened.
‘To my suite.’ He steered her inexorably inside. ‘My housekeeper will join us there.’
‘Take me back to the ground floor, please.’ Kate was shaking suddenly. ‘I want to go home—now.’
‘It will be safer for you to remain at the hotel tonight.’ He paused. ‘I have a confession to make to you, thespinis. I sent Takis to spill your drink deliberately.’
‘You must be crazy.’ Kate felt dizzy suddenly. ‘You can’t hope to get away with this—even if you do own the place.’
‘Ah,’ he said softly. ‘So you know who I am.’
‘Your fame goes before you. But I’m not interested in being added to your list of conquests.’
He laughed. ‘You flatter yourself, my red-headed vixen. My motives, for once, are purely altruistic.’
The lift doors opened, and Kate found herself being marched along a wide corridor towards a pair of double doors at the end.
‘No.’ There was real panic in her voice. ‘I want to go home.’
‘So you shall,’ he said. ‘In the morning when I am sure you have suffered no lasting ill effects.’
‘Ill effects?’ Kate echoed, as another wave of dizziness assailed her. ‘What are you talking about.’
He said flatly, ‘Your drink was spiked, thespinis. I saw your companion do it.’
‘Spiked,’ Kate repeated. ‘You mean—drugged? But—why?’
He shrugged. ‘To make you more amenable, perhaps.’ He opened the door, and guided her into the room beyond. ‘There is something called the date-rape drug. You may have heard of it.’
She said numbly, ‘Heard of it—yes. But you must be mistaken. It can’t be true…’
His mouth twisted. ‘If the man you were with had asked you to sleep with him tonight, would you have agreed?’
She gasped. ‘God—no. He’s repulsive.’
‘But might not take rejection well, all the same,’ he said drily. ‘Which is why you must not return to your apartment tonight.’
‘But I have to.’ Kate was shaking. She put a hand to her forehead, trying to steady herself. Collect her thoughts. ‘My—my things are there. I’m going back to England tomorrow. Besides, they may have drugged Lisa too.’
His mouth curled. ‘I doubt they would need to.’
She said hotly, ‘You have no right to say that. You don’t know her.’
He smiled faintly, ‘I admire your loyalty, thespinis, if not your judgement. Now, I think you should lie down before you fall down,’ he added with a slight frown.
‘I’m—fine,’ Kate said thickly.
‘I don’t think so,’ he said, and picked her up in his arms.
She knew she should protest—that she should kick and fight, but it was so much easier to rest her head against his shoulder and close her eyes, and let him carry her.
She could feel the warmth of his body through his clothing. Could smell the faint muskiness of some cologne he wore.
She sensed a blur of shaded light, and felt the softness of a mattress beneath her. Dimly she was aware of her zip being unfastened and her dress removed, and tried to struggle—to utter some panicked negation.
A woman’s voice spoke soothingly. ‘Rest easily, little one. All will be well.’
Kate felt the caress of clean, crisp linen against her bare skin, and then the last vestiges of reality slid away, and she slept.
She dreamed fitfully, in brief wild snatches, her body twisting away from the image of Dimitris bending towards her with hot eyes and greedy hands, her voice crying out in soundless horror.
Once, there seemed to be a man’s voice speaking right above her in Greek. ‘She could solve your immediate problem.’
And heard a cool drawl that she seemed to recognise in the wry response, ‘And create a hundred more…’
She wondered who they were—what they were talking about? But it was all too much effort when she was tired—so tired.
And, as she drifted away again, she felt a hand gently touch her hair, and stroke her cheek.
And smiled in her sleep.
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